


Foam Party

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Laundry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7010716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-eight years of using Hubbard's Laundry and Dry Cleaning Service has left some gaps in Rumple's knowledge of modern appliances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foam Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Of_Princes_and_Savages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/gifts).



> Of_Princes_and_Savages - I went nuts :)

Rumple eyed the piles suspiciously. Something wasn’t right here. He read the instructions again; nope still as clear as mud the fifth time round. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Obviously he was over-thinking this; this wasn’t a delightfully complex contract, or a delicate potion, Cinderella could manage to do this, how bloody hard could it be?

“Right. I’ll start with the whites and work the rest out later.”

The various piles of coloured clothing, which he’d carefully sorted by shade, were bundled back into the hamper. After a brief argument with the door mechanism the white pile was crammed into the machine. The door wouldn’t close. Rumple glared at the instruction book and flicked through the pages. There was a section called Trouble Shooting, but to his great disappointment it did not recommend the best weapon to use on the damn contraption, (personally he was leaning towards a cross bow at the moment).

“’Do not exceed your machine’s maximum capacity.’ Okay, so what is my machine’s maximum capacity?”

Rumple shrugged at the open washer door, “Clearly less than I’ve tried to put in, so…”

He tried to pull out part of the load, but somehow it had twisted together and all of it came out. It took a moment to separate everything out again, but he was soon able to place items one by one into the machine. 

“Half full. That can’t be over maximum, can it?”

A sticker on the front of the machine caught his eye: 6kg. Not the weight of the machine, so that must be the maximum load weight. Was that wet or dry? For a brief instant he considered finding some scales and weighing everything.

“Bugger that.”

The door clicked shut easily this time, so it couldn’t matter that much about the actual weight. He squashed his inner potion maker, who was currently having a fit at such a sloppy attitude.

“It’s laundry, not a sleeping potion, a mistake won’t kill anyone. Probably.”

The next challenge was adding detergent. Belle had bought a box of something that claimed to be for laundry. The horrible fake floral scent was nothing like the lye soap Rumple had used eons ago, but Belle seemed to like it. Where to put it? 

“’Models WSM5, WSM6 and WSM8 detergent drawer on left. WSM7 drawer on right.’ Okay so this must be a WSM7 because the only thing that looks like a drawer is on the right.”

The instruction book for the washer went between his teeth as he struggled to open the box of detergent.

“Wot da fook?”

He’d been expecting a bar of soap, or flakes, not bright little pods. With a sigh he began to open one of the pods. It resisted his fingers and even his teeth. With a brief guilty look over his shoulder he conjured a pair of scissors and snipped away the corner of the pod. The tiny amount of liquid dribbled into the drawer. It didn’t look anywhere near enough. Oh, according to the box he wasn’t supposed to take the liquid out. He threw two more in for good measure and slammed the drawer shut.

This was taking ages, it would have been faster to use a tub and washboard, or magic, but Belle had wanted him to cut back on the amount of magic he used for everyday things. So here he was sweaty, annoyed and gained a grudging appreciation for Cinderella who had done this frustrating chore day in and day out for the duration of the Curse.

He turned his attention to the dials on the machine. This looked easy enough; there was a program for whites, wonderful. Oh, there were two white options, synthetic or cotton. Great, he couldn’t remember what he’d put into the machine. He considered tossing a coin to decided, but opted for cotton, for no better reason than it was first on the dial. A tentative finger hovered over the Start button for an embarrassingly long moment, then jabbed it hard.

Rumple backed away from the machine and waited. A gurgle of water, then an electric humming and the washer began. He blew out a long breath and headed to the kitchen. What he needed was a good cup of tea.

 

When Belle returned home half an hour later she was greeted by the sound of swearing and crashing from the laundry room in the basement.

“Rumple!”

Silence fell and brought with it a suggestion of guilt. 

“Down here Belle.”

For a second Belle stared at the door. Whatever he was doing in there it couldn’t be as bad as some of the things she was imagining right now. She pushed open the door and started down the few steps. A mess of bubbles greeted her at the bottom; the floor was covered in a sloppy looking foam. At the centre of this was her dripping wet, forlorn looking husband. His cane was in his hand, which explained the crashing sounds. Judging by the dents the washer had received a good few blows and yet it was still merrily sloshing and gurgling, and pumping more foam into the room. 

“It wouldn’t stop Belle.”

Belle ducked her head to hide her smile and slipped out of her shoes. Rumple sloshed across the room to her as she stepped into the foamy mess. She took in the full extent of the mess and oddly felt rather proud of him. Oh the laundry was a total loss, but he hadn’t tidied up with a wave of his hand, although that possibly had a lot to do with his temper at the machine.

“How much detergent did you use?”

“Um, three of the pod thingies, one didn’t look like enough.”

“I seem to recall the Dark One once telling his maid that more didn’t always mean better in matters of laundry.”

Rumple’s shoulders sagged as he rolled his eyes at her.

“Belle you’d put so much starch on those sheets they stood up on their own. You’re laughing at me aren’t you?”

“Only a little. It’s nice to know I’m better at something than you, even if it is only laundry.”

Rumple caught her in his arms and swayed them on the spot.

“This from the little maid who once fell in the tub while she was scrubbing my shirts?”

Belle’s eyes flashed with triumph; “You did watch me while I was working.”

He gave her a half smile, “Maybe. Occasionally. You were very entertaining.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers into his hair.

“So seeing me dripping wet was only entertaining?” Rumple shivered as her fingers traced patterns across his scalp. Belle’s pupils were blown wide, he wasn’t sure why she found this situation arousing, but he certainly wasn’t going to question his luck. She shifted up on to her tip toes and whispered in his ear; “Did you watch while I stripped out of my wet clothes?”

Much to his shame he had allowed his gaze to linger longer than was decent, he was about to apologise for that when Belle rolled her hips against his.

“I think you did watch me. Did it get you hard like this?”

“Yes.” The word escaped him as a gasp. Belle gave a low hum that sent shivers down his spine. She slipped a hand from his hair and ran it across his sopping shirt, but didn’t stop at his buttons as he expected, her hand continued its downward path and gave his cock a firm squeeze through his trousers.

“Did you want to ask your maid to help you with this?”

“I wouldn’t have dared.”

“Do you dare ask you wife for what you need, for what you want?”

In answer Rumple gave a low growl. Foamy water sloshed across the floor as he pushed her back against the washing machine and lifted her onto its dented top. Their movements became a blur of wet, hasty kisses and fumbling fingers. Belle’s wiggled out of her knickers and tried to help him with his belt, which finally came free and was thrown carelessly over Rumple’s shoulder to be swallowed up by the foam. She gave a small yelp of surprise as the washer started its spin cycle. Rumple’s brow drew into a concerned frown, but she didn’t give him time to think about relocating them, she grabbed his half open shirt, hauled him towards her and captured his groan with her mouth. The machine was rocking rapidly under them as Rumple sheathed himself inside her. Her ankles locked around his arse, urging him on with each thrust. The machine finished spinning with a whine, but they were both too far gone, too close to care. Belle’s nails dug into his shoulders as she threw her head back to scream her pleasure. Rumple buried his face in her neck, and tried not to bite her as he shuddered into climax.

They shared sated smiles as they got their breath back. 

“Do you still hate the washing machine?”

Rumple chuckled softly; “It has its uses.”

Belle took in the flooded mess of the laundry room; “Mops or magic?”

Rumple kissed her gently; “Magic mops?”

Belle laughed at him; “Does that ever work out well for anyone?”

Rumple shrugged; “Finding it hard to care at the moment.”


End file.
